


Forward Motion

by mizface



Category: Canadian 6 Degrees, Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is not a movie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward Motion

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Written for nos4a2no9 for the Due South/C6D Homecoming Fest Mini-Exchange. Thank you to akamine_chan for a splendiferous beta, and for calming my nerves about this one.

It wasn’t easy.

If this had been a movie, Duck would have brought Dan to his house from the hospital, and made it their home. They would have moved over Dan’s clothes, and his movie posters, and merged their lives together. Dan would have filled the empty corners of Duck’s life as easily as he filled a dresser drawer with his socks and underwear.

Dan would have re-opened the video store, maybe started stocking a wider range of films. Slipped in some Donald Strachey mysteries, _The Laramie Project_ or even something more mainstream like _Philadelphia_. He would have gone on about his days at the store while Duck continued with his odd jobs, readying Wilby for winter, stocking up, saving what he could for the slower months coming up.

If this was a movie, looks of revulsion and disdain would have been slowly replaced with understanding, maybe even grudging respect. They would have become regulars at Sandra’s diner, able to share stories with the other customers, slowly but surely accepted into the community. Baby steps, each carefully taken and all worth it.

But this was life, and life rarely allows simple, happy endings.

Dan was released, but he stayed with Buddy, at Carol’s insistence. It was awkward at best, Carol trying too hard to make him welcome, to apologize for her actions without ever saying the words. All too soon Dan felt hemmed in, stifled by the unwanted attention.

Duck gave him the space he’d asked for, and if Dan saw Duck’s truck driving by more often than he could possibly have needed to for work, he didn’t comment on it. Duck came to dinner once, when it was just Buddy and Dan, Carol working late as usual. The conversation was stilted, despite Buddy’s best efforts. He and Duck went out to smoke while Dan put the dishes in the sink, and their quiet voices filtered in through the screen door, the strain and tension obvious beneath the words.

He stopped trying to listen.

It took almost two weeks for Dan to feel ready to leave the house. If this were a movie, the day would have been cloudless, warm and cheery. Since this was real life, Dan waited for a gray, drizzly day, hoping the weather would keep folks indoors. By the time he got to the video store, he was shaking from more than the chill in the air, but he’d made it. Alone there in the darkened room, surrounded by half-packed boxes, he felt like he could finally breathe.

It took some rearranging, but he made space in the back room for a cot and moved his things in, bare necessities only. Buddy offered him the use of the station’s locker room and showers, once Dan made it clear he wouldn’t be overstaying his welcome any further. Sandra bartered with him, movie rentals for meals, and he settled into his temporary housing, hoping that taking this step would help him find the next one.

Life went on.

Sandra immediately started inviting him to movie nights at their house. After the fourth polite refusal in nearly as many days, Sandra sent Emily over. She told him in no uncertain terms that he was coming over so she didn’t have to hear her mother talk about it any more. Dan hid a tiny smile as he followed her to their house, watched mother and daughter trade loving barbs as they made popcorn, and even joined in on their commentary once or twice as they watched the video.

It was nice.

The third time Dan came over (bringing his favorite western, at Sandra’s request), Duck was there. He smiled softly at Dan when he entered the kitchen, sodas and movie in hand, then turned back to helping Emily put up a shelf in the kitchen (“Mom is always losing salt and spices and shit, so why not put them here in plain sight?” “Language, Emily!” “Whatever, Mom.”)

Dan set the sodas in the fridge and went to put in the movie, trying not to show the slight trembling of his hands, or the flush to his cheeks. Yes, he’d seen Duck; the man would stop by and check on him, sometimes renting a movie, other times just saying hello. He’d linger, waiting, patient, and Dan would smile nervously and flit around the store and generally act like a fool. He berated himself each and every time Duck left, told himself that next time he’d say something, ask Duck to dinner, to watch a movie, to talk. Something.

He never did. And every time Duck would leave, Dan thought he saw the shadows in Duck’s eyes get a little darker. But he never said anything. Neither of them did.

Sandra tried to force (nicely, politely) Duck and Dan to sit together on the couch, but Emily just rolled her eyes and plopped down between them. Dan gave her a grateful look; he though he saw Duck do the same. Despite the film being his favorite, Dan barely watched it, instead sneaking glances at Duck, wondering what he thought of the movie. Dan answered Sandra’s questions about it, and shut down Emily’s good-natured teasing about cowboy movies being lame with a retort about the quality of her favorite films.

Duck stayed silent, his attention on the film, though Dan was pretty sure he saw Duck fight a smile after one of he and Emily’s more spirited exchanges.

As the tape was rewinding, Sandra and Emily gathered up the bowls and empty soda cans, leaving Dan and Duck alone in the family room. It should have been awkward, like all their other meetings since the hospital had been. But Duck just smiled at Dan, nodding toward the TV with an approving look, and suddenly, it felt easy. Dan shifted on the couch, turning to face Duck, who waited motionless, still smiling. Dan could feel the upward curve of Duck’s mouth as their lips touched, soft and quick, a barely-there kiss. He felt the corners of his mouth tug upward as they moved apart, his smile matching Duck’s.

Duck tilted his head, and Dan nodded, slow but sure. Duck’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin, then settled back into the calm look Dan had seen so often. Only now, the shadows were gone.

When they left, Duck offered him a ride. The drive was short, and mostly quiet, but the silence felt good. After Duck parked in front of the store, Dan reached over and laid his hand on Duck’s, and the surprised but pleased look he got in response felt even better. Duck reached up with his free hand and cupped Dan’s cheek; Dan leaned into it, turned to kiss Duck’s palm.

Duck squeezed the hand holding his and then let go slowly as his fingers of his other hand trailed down the side of Dan’s face to his neck, his collar.

“I like to get coffee at the diner before opening the store,” Dan said.

Duck nodded. “Coffee is good.”

Dan nodded, giving Duck a smile before opening the door of the truck. He watched Duck drive away, then watched the road long after, as if he could still see it heading toward home.

It was, he thought as he unlocked the door, a definite step in the right direction.


End file.
